


homemade pie

by onthighsbelongtotaemin



Category: SHINee
Genre: Bus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Luggage, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthighsbelongtotaemin/pseuds/onthighsbelongtotaemin
Summary: the next time she hears her boyfriend mumbling she “accidentally” kicks him, flinching when he jerks awake so violently that he bangs his forehead on the chair in front of him.  out of the corner of her eye she watches him rub his forehead before stretching his hands up to the ceiling.  he glances over at her with a look that has her rolling her eyes before he even speaks.“hey,” he says, his voice soft & gravelly, “do you want to make out in the bathroom?”  gwiboon pulls her arms tighter to her chest.





	homemade pie

gwiboon stares out the window, arms wrapped tight across her chest, & sighs as the scenery slowly passes by.  they’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but reflective markers dotting the sides of the freeway.  the view from her window is of an empty field, perhaps wheat before the harvest, shining golden beneath a sun hanging in the bluest sky gwiboon thinks she’s ever seen.  it’s the sort of day that is photographed & printed on postcards & brochures, a “welcome to our little quaint town, won’t you stop in to our local diner for our lunch special & a slice of homemade pie?” that every small town makes in the hopes of surviving through another season.  just as the thought crosses her mind a billboard passes making just that offer & she sighs again, hungry now & a little sad at the sign’s weathered appearance.

she turns her head to look out the window of the seats across the aisle on their oversized bus, a set of many that sit empty.  a teenager sits one row up with enormous headphones & a tolerance for blaring music that gwiboon finds slightly more impressive than irritating.  but only slightly.  the view from the window is striking in its appearance when compared to the one outside her own.  rain pours down in sheets coating the windows & blurring any landmarks they may be passing.

somehow in this picturesque countryside, complete with the diner offering “homemade pie”, gwiboon finds herself on a bus five degrees too cold beneath a downpour that reaches only half of the vehicle, a phenomenon of nature that defies logic.

gwiboon sighs again & turns back to her own window.

the passenger in the seat next to her shifts, a loud crinkle against the warm hum of the traveling bus & a neutral distraction from her melancholy ruminations.  taemin mutters in his sleep, “jinki” being the only word gwiboon recognizes.  she rolls her eyes & keeps her gaze on the passing scenery.

the next time she hears her boyfriend mumbling she “accidentally” kicks him, flinching when he jerks awake so violently that he bangs his forehead on the chair in front of him.  out of the corner of her eye she watches him rub his forehead before stretching his hands up to the ceiling.  he glances over at her with a look that has her rolling her eyes before he even speaks.

“hey,” he says, his voice soft & gravelly, “do you want to make out in the bathroom?”  gwiboon pulls her arms tighter to her chest.

“no.”

“do you want to make out here?”

“no.”

“do you want to make out at the next stop when everyone gets off?”

“no.”  there’s a long pause & she thinks maybe he’s fallen back asleep.

“what time is it?”  no such luck.

“check your phone.”  the quiet on his side stretches on as gwiboon watches another billboard advertising “homemade pie” appear & disappear through the double-paned window.

“i said i was sorry, gwi.”  gwiboon huffs.

“tell me again why we’re taking a bus?”  taemin sighs.

“because we’re poor & you didn’t want to risk losing our luggage.”

“right.  & what did we lose?”

“our luggage.”

“right.”

“it was just the backpack.”

“everything was in that backpack, tae.  our food, my sweater, the phone, my pillow.”

“not everything, gwi.  we still have our money.  we can buy food at the next stop.”

“whenever that is.”

“oh my god.”  as he begins to stand she finally turns to him, biting her lip as he moves too quickly down the aisle to grab him & pull him back.  she watches as he stops at the empty seat next to the kid with the headphones, leaning across it to tap him on the shoulder.  their voices are muffled by distance & the sound of the bus in motion & she chuckles as she watches him take a pen their fellow passenger pulls out & start scribbling on his arm.

when he turns around to come back she turns back to the window.

“here,” he says as he plops down beside her, “it’s the whole trip from here to our stop.  there’s still three hours until we get there & two layovers along the way, probably gas stations, & we can get something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“i am hungry.”

“well we have,” he says as he turns his wrist over, “twenty minutes until the next stop.”  gwiboon only nods.  “are you just going to pout the entire twenty minutes?”  

“taemin i’m freezing & my wonderfully warm sweater was in the backpack you left at the last stop.  so if you would leave me alone & let me warm myself by the flaming heat of my wrath i’d really appreciate it.”

there was another long pause, permeated only by the sound of taemin’s rings clicking together as he twiddles his fingers.

“do you want to sit in my lap?”

“no.”

“do you want me to sit in yours?”

“no.”

“would it be alright if i put my arms around you & hugged you so that you could be warmed by the flaming heat of your wrath & by my strong, masculine arms?” she finally looks at him, frowning in bemusement at his outstretched arms & apologetic smile.

“why masculine?”

“because i’m a cis man.  therefore, my arms are masculine.”

“you’re such an odd cis man.”

“with strong, masculine arms.”  he gestures again & she sighs as she leans over, tucking her fists beneath her collarbones & breathing in the scent of their detergent as his palms warm her back.

“i am sorry, gwi.”

“i know.  i’m just cold & hungry.”

“crungry.”

“why are you like this?”

*twenty-two minutes later at the gas station*

taemin stands first, holding his hand out to help gwiboon out of her seat.  his foot hits a divot in the floor just wrong & he stumbles backward into the side of an empty seat.  startled, he reaches back to rub the smarting flesh only to discover the outline of something solid in his pocket.  he grins when he pulls it out.

“hey!  look what i found!”  gwiboon looks up from where she has shifted over to his now empty seat & laughs in exasperation when she sees taemin shaking the phone triumphantly.  

well, at least there was that.


End file.
